Supply and Demand
by Tetra007
Summary: In Ravio's mind, selling items is all about creating supply and demand. Even if it takes a lie or three to get him there. One-shot. Prequel to For Profit!


Supply and Demand

_How does he do that?_ Ravio thought as he glanced up at the _he_ in question. The green clad hero sat on a bench, bruises, bandages, and cuts covering his frail form. Even still, his doppelganger wore a grin as wide as a gaping valley while Sheerow fluttered around his head, holding a bandage in his beak.

"And I almost killed a Hinox!" he said. The bird gave a merry chirp, bobbing its head. "Those things, I mean, wow. They really are tough."

"But not too hard for you, right Mr. Hero?" Ravio asked, folding his arms. "Even if Sheerow had to take my items back…"

"Next time I'll kill it. Put an arrow through its eye." He pretended to pick up a bow and aim it at Ravio. The merchant ducked behind the counter, causing the hero to laugh. "Oh, c'mon, it's not like a thing made of air can hurt, sir, it's just air. Weak wimpy thing, not like fire or ice or hands falling from the ceiling trying to squeeze the life outta you..."

Ravio glared at the hero behind the counter of assorted items. Even imagining those monsters sent a shiver down his spine and made his heart thump against in his ribcage like the drumbeat marched to by the horde of Moblins that had once sieged Lorule Castle. That thought made him wish he could coward somewhere dark, stank, and where nothing could take him. Shadows, in some ways, were a better comfort than listening to Link's heroic tales…which always transformed into tales of butchery.

"Yeah, let me tell you about that one," said Link, a slight smirk edging across his face. "Got to the end of that Woods place and then, bam! This huge hand fell from the ceiling; the guy had to be twenty times the size of the normal yellow freaks in that place."

Ravio sighed, leaning his back against the counter and dragging his legs to his chest. Why did he get the feeling that Link liked telling him these stories just to see him shake and quiver? Or perhaps, the boy didn't notice, he could be oblivious like that. "This one though, he was covered in armor…and I think his _flesh_ was underneath it. I could see muscles and veins and things like that. After what his minions did in the dungeon, snatching me and draggin' me back to the start, I had to teach him a lesson."

"And…?" He really wished he had not asked.

"Well, Mr. Merchant." Ravio peaked over the counter in time to see Link's smirk dissipate into his legendary grin, the hero's eyes alight with something a part of him thought might be less than sane. "After he smashed against the floor and such, I got him real good. Took that bastard down with a nice stab to that big eye on his back. You should've heard him shriek."

This made Ravio curl up further, the logical part of him yelling at him that hands should never have eyes or be larger than a house. They shouldn't be floating around either or smashing things, at least without arms, and they should definitely not shriek. "It…screamed?" he heard himself ask, his voice faint to his own ears as his mouth was muttered by the cloth of his merchant's robes.

The hero continued with his tale. "Yup. No, it was kind of freaky…like, you know—"

Something smacked against the hero, Ravio looked over the counter. Link clutched his head in his hands, glaring at sheerow. The bird held the Fire Rod in its talons, large, red and incredibly beautiful. Ravio stood, smoothing out his robe as he slid next to his bird, a grin on his face. He hated Link's stories, even though he respected the hero's courage.

"Why did he do that?" Link glared at him instead of the bird. _Sure, blame me for what sheerow did. He can't make his _own _choices, right, Mr. Hero._ "I was getting to the best part."

"It's just that I _love_ your stories so much that I thought I'd remind you that to continue on your wonderful adventure you'd have to re-rent your items," said the merchant. "And the price has gone up. We're getting quite popular, isn't it great? The god of supply and demand is acting in our favor."

"What?"

Ravio placed a hand on the hero's back. "More customers and few items—simply put, we get to charge you more!"

"But…," Link said, scratching his head. "No one else even knows you're here. How did…?"

The merchant shrugged, taking the rod from sheerow and gesturing with it. "What? You really think that!? Where are the bombs?" He gestured to the empty spot where the bomb bag had been on the counter. In reality, he had hid the bombs in his oversized wallet on top of the wooden box in the corner, but Link did not need to know that. A little white lie never hurt anyone, especially heroes who thought taking enjoyment in the deaths of monsters and telling these tales to frightened merchants was a fun way to kill time.

"I don't know." Link frowned, his shoulders slumping. "Again?"

"Oh, c'mon," said the merchant. "It's not like you need those, _right_?"

"I was kind of thinking of bombing some walls, actually." Link paused, glancing at the Fire Rod in Ravio's hand. "Fine, how much for it?"

"With prices going up…"

"No, how much to buy it," the hero said, smiling. "It's kind of a pain to lose everything each and every time some monster knocks me out, and from how that Hilda-voice described the place I can't imagine it being simple…"

Ravio had removed himself to his makeshift desk, resting his head on his clasped hands as he glanced at the rental prices for each item. The new price for the Fire Rod was listed as 150 Rupees, but if he could use Link's desperation against him… It really wasn't villainous, just clever. Good economics and all those kinds of things, like any merchant, he had to use this to his advantage—this was a deal he could not mess up. Dabbing his pen into the ink well, he scribbled the price of the Fire Rod on his list then waved Link over.

The hero leaned over the desk, eyes widening. "2000 rupees?"

"I _might_ go lower," he said upon seeing Link's panic. Still, he could not let the hero know he felt any amount of pity. Merchants had to be cold; it was part of good business. "I might lower it to twelve hundred if you stop telling me how much you like killing things. At least, don't tell me in detail."

"It really gets to you, huh?" said Link, blinking.

Ravio rolled his eyes. How could his near-twin be so dimwitted? It was as if the goddesses had taken away every ounce of cowardliness and wisdom and replaced it with a giant well of courage and stupidity. Sometimes, he almost felt he was talking to a male-version of Hilda, though Ravio still could not quite bring himself to believe she could be so unwise even after all she had trusted that twit and everything else she had done.

"I'll take it." Ravio frowned; the hero gave an overt sigh. "And I promise not to tell you how I'll kill that Hinox the next time I see him."

"Or whatever's in the Ice Ruins?"

The hero nodded. "Yeah, sure, why not?"

"And anything after it." Link rolled his eyes, but gave a nod, digging out several different dominations of rupees. Silver, red, and purple rupees clinked against the desk, Ravio watched as the hero placed these rupees in a pile with an astute expression. Taking them in his hands, the merchant counted as the hero tapped his foot against the floor, placing his hands on his waist.

"It's a deal," Ravio said, extending a hand. Instead of taking it, Link snatched the Fire Rod, turning to go, but Ravio shouted: "You _might_ want to take another item, Mr. Hero, like the bow! I heard that place is filled with things that don't like arrows in their eyes."

Link sighed, throwing a silver rupee over his shoulder and taking the bow before slamming the door to what had once been his house. _Ha_, thought the merchant as he grabbed it, flipping it into his wallet. _Now that's a great deal!_


End file.
